frncs
it’s a name to a face he’d only seen in his periphery or in the few times he’d granted himself a surreptitious glance at harlowe, just to check if she’s okay. she had been. completely okay. happy, even. and he’s fine too, he’d proven that to her in ways that only in retrospect, when the first grey hair starts to sprout, that he’ll recognize as insensitive and cruel. right now, he just assumes the nauseating weight that pushes against his sternum, the anxiety, is the cost of their nobility. that this is what it means to be mature adults, that the step out of adolescence feels like the stepping into the deep end without warning. frank and harlowe are happy. what more could they want for each other ( other than maybe being happy for each other ). ‘ great. ’ he only says it pointedly because she did first. ‘ i mean, i’ve never met him but that’s great — - really great. ’
there’s a sharpness to his great that pierces through her chest, forcing her to wrap her arms around herself as an extra shield of protection. “it is great,” she repeats, as if the added phrase would mean anything at all. harlowe had dated other guys in high school, every one met with this same nonchalance. though now it felt more pointed. maybe because the older they got the more permanent relationships seemed, and whatever codependence they’d had growing up outgrew them both with time. new years only a painful bandaid removed, as opposed to letting it wash out under warm water. “we met on new years.” hopefully he would see the irony of that. the day it all crumbled, their history washed away with one sentence. truth be told, she wished levi was there right now. that she hadn’t asked him to get them drinks, that he was standing between her and frank so she could use more than his name, and their story, as a shield.